


Second Chance

by MagicMight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (Not Malfoy), ...at this point it's my brand, Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst & pain, Assault, Attempted Rape, Attempted Suicide, Dark, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Girl-Who-Lived (Harry Potter), Harriet Potter - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, PTSD, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Post-War, Powerful Harry Potter, Recovery, Substance Abuse, Trauma, Violence, female!Harry, female!Harry Potter - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:21:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24158047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicMight/pseuds/MagicMight
Summary: Harriet Potter is finally free. The Girl-Who-Lived (and lived and lived and lived again) defeated Tom Marvolo Riddle at the Battle of Hogwarts after a lifelong fight witnessed by most of the world--but we all know that story. Now, her purpose, her reason for being, her life as the Chosen One--it no longer weighs heavy on her shoulders. Instead, she's haunted by loss. The grief, trauma, and scars inherited by the Wizarding World seem like too much. Leave it to Harry to believe it's all her fault.Of course, an annoyingly ever-present Draco Malfoy, true to form, shows up where he's least expected with a new purpose of his own. Intrigued by one another as, well, they always have been, Harriet and Draco tentatively try to leave the past in the past. Attempting to find a "new normal" proves impossible, as Harriet Potter hasn't lived a normal day in her entire life.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Ginny Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Harry Potter/Terrence Higgs (Past), Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood
Comments: 1
Kudos: 53





	1. The Third Annual Gala Commemorating the Battle of Hogwarts

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> I've been sitting on this for a while and figured, well, why the hell not? We're all stuck in quarantine so let me just throw this out there and see what happens with it. If it brings you some sort of entertainment, then it's served its purpose and I can sleep easy. I'd love to know what you think about it. Especially when it comes to how the characters are written, that's always a big thing for me, I certainly don't own them but I'd like to do them justice!
> 
> This takes place a bit after the war. Harry Potter is, in fact, female and always has been. There are some minor tweaks and changes throughout you might pick up on but, ideally, Female!Harry's journey was much the same as our OG Harry's. Any variation of importance will be noted throughout the story. Should anything seem like a glaringly dramatic mistake, feel free to let me know so I can have a look. 
> 
> This piece is for fun. While heavy and dark at times, I write because I enjoy it. There's something about pulling characters through angst and pain to have them rise stronger than ever (only to face another daunting challenge) that's exciting. I, in no way, condone or glamorize abusive behavior of any kind. Be mindful of the trigger warnings, they are there for a reason! I humbly request you forgive any spelling and grammar mistakes.
> 
> Usual disclaimers apply. Happy reading!

**_2 May, 1998_ **   
**_Voldemort is dead._ **

  
Harriet was numb.

Utterly and brutally numb.

Some people were still cheering, other's were sobbing. All she could think of was sleeping until all of this, her entire life, really, was something she could pretend was just a nightmare. Her body ached with the soreness of war and having been on the run for 10 months. Everything felt like it was moving altogether too slow--she wondered briefly why she'd come back.

And then she remembered. Voldemort was dead. Her entire life's purpose had been fulfilled. She didn't have it in her to wonder what was next. To wonder what would happen now that she didn't have to be the Chosen One anymore. Those worries would come later.

"-rriet, Harry? Can you hear me?" Hermione's voice broke through, pulling her back to the surface, "They want to know what you want to do with V-Voldemort's b-body."

She flinched sharply at this and her eyes flickered to the lump on the floor before her. Someone had thrown a sheet over him. Eyes were on her as she stepped forward until Riddle was at her feet. There was a flash of light. 

Someone had taken a photograph.

Harry ignored it, she had to. With a flick of her wand...rather, the Elder Wand, Tom's body was bound by ropes, the sheet still covering the hollow shell left behind, "I'll move him."

"Harry, you don't have to do this, we can--" She shook her head at Bill Weasley's protests, smiled softly at Fleur who had stepped forward, looking every bit the fierce warrior they'd all been forced to become that day, and all the days before that had led to this very moment where they'd watched Tom Riddle fall to his knees and his reign of terror along with it.

"I've got to do it on my own."

The determined look in her eyes before she turned away from them all was enough to allow her escape from the Great Hall, which had fallen entirely silent. She was nearly out the door when she saw them. The Malfoy's. Narcissa was desperately clutching Draco's hand with both of her own. Lucius had his arm around his wife's shoulders. 

They were staring at her.

It was Narcissa who spoke quietly, breaking the silence that had fallen over them all, "Thank you for what you have done for my family, Harriet."

As she opened her mouth to thank her in return, Mrs. Malfoy gave the slightest shake of her head. One that Harriet understood to mean she shouldn't mention it. It was the least she could have done. Her eyes fell on Lucius, who gave a nod of his chin. He looked nothing like the haughty, regal man she remembered from Flourish and Blotts when he'd slipped Ginny the diary and started a chain of events none of them could have imagined.

At last, her eyes lingered on Draco, who looked like he was going to say something to her, but with prying eyes and attentive ears, he seemed to shrink away from the thought and merely nodded his head like his father.

She swept from the Great Hall quickly after that before her chest caved in on itself. The only place she could think of was the dungeons, a pit as dark and lonely as the dead man she was bringing there. Just outside what she knew to be the Slytherin Common Room, Harriet dropped to her knees and let Riddle's body hit the floor without a care.

The first sob that left her throat was quickly followed by another, and another. Her shoulders wracked, her hands shook, and the tears staining her cheeks didn't seem like they'd ever stop. And then, they did.

He was dead. Really dead. It was over.

The body next to her was responsible for the death's of so many, people she new, people she had loved--he'd killed her parents right in front of her. He'd taken everything from her. Her childhood, a normal life. And now what? What was she now? 

A flare of anger surged through her and she propelled herself to her feet. 

"I hate you! I fucking--you deserved to suffer, like I did! Like we all have! I fucking hate you!" The scream was loud and unplanned, the sharp kick she aimed at him was so brutally backed by unfettered rage that it hurt, and it was the first real feeling she'd had since she'd killed him.

An unfair wave of guilt rushed through her, and she wrapped an arm around her waist before doubling over with another sob. She couldn't very well desecrate a dead man's body--even if that man was Voldemort. Tom Marvolo Riddle. She wanted so terribly to feel relief and happiness, only, she couldn't. There was so much pain and loss--the range of her emotions shuffled through her and all she could think of was how she wished she hadn't gotten back on the train. Then she might've gone on to see what was waiting for her elsewhere.

Her parents. Sirius. Remus and Tonks. Her father. Fred. Dumbledore. Hedwig, might be. Charity Burbage. Mad-Eye. Cedric. Dobby, finally Free. Colin Creevey would be there--she'd let him take as many photos with her as he wanted.

Even Snape.

Just when she was sure her knees were going to make sharp contact with the ground again, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her and kept her from falling. When she looked up to see who it was that she was looking at, Harriet nearly gasped.

"Malfoy?"

"It's been a while that you've been gone. I wanted to tell you to pull it together before they came looking for you," he told her, attempting to sound careless and cold but the usual vehemence wasn't there. Almost like his heart wasn't in it. She was still in his arms, but didn't have the strength to move away or shove him off of her, "You did it. You saved everyone. Some of us a few times," Harriet pointedly tried not to notice the way his eyes shifted to meet hers, more meaning behind them than she wanted to address at the moment.

"I couldn't just let you die."

"You should have."

"Don't say things like that." 

There was a beat of silence.

"Because of you my family is free from...Voldemort," Draco finally let go of her, "I'll never be able to repay you."

"Your mother saved me in the forest. Call it even."

"What?"

"You'll have to ask her, Malfoy."

The other didn't push it any further. Instead he dropped his eyes to the body next to them, the monster they were both suddenly free from. Draco shifted and raised his sleeve, baring his Dark Mark, "It's already faded slightly. It no longer moves," Malfoy whispered as if he couldn't believe it were true himself. He still sounded afraid. She stared at it, and for the first time didn't feel anything. No revulsion. No fear. Just...nothing. 

There was a strange emptiness that overwhelmed her now.

"He's really gone."

"Harriet Potter, Girl-Who-Lived _and_ lived, and lived _again_ ," Draco drawled, shoving his hands into his pockets as he tilted his head back towards the ceiling and closed his eyes, "Go on, get back to everyone. I need a minute to myself here as well."

She blinked at Malfoy once, twice--found that she didn't mind that he was dismissing her, that she didn't have it in her to fight him, not anymore. In fact, without his insistence, she wasn't sure she'd have been able to walk away. As if letting Riddle's body out of her sight would allow him to come alive once again.

"Potter--"

She turned back to Malfoy, "You saved yourself too, you know. Don't waste your second chance."

* * *

**_2 May, 2001_ **   
**_Three years later._ **

Harry thought of Malfoy's words often.

But as of late, she thought them all the time, everyday.

Currently, she was in the Great Hall, her lips pursed in a tight, fake smile. Camera's flashing, blown-up photographs of her, Ron, and Hermione from this same day, three years ago surrounding the hall, as if any of them wanted to see how they'd looked after the battle. She cringed as she saw a photograph of herself making a very rude hand gesture at the back of an unsuspecting reporter. She laughed as photograph-Hermione grabbed her hand and gave her a stern look. They looked exhausted in those pictures, leaving the castle later that day--reporters rushing the scene while the castle was unguarded. She remembered shoving quick quotes quills out of her face, camera lenses on her.

Today, she felt eyes on her--but that was typical. Every year the Gala was the same. Speakers gave a speech and she was expected to lead them all in a toast before they were supposed to eat, drink, and be some form of merry. This year, her "toast" had consisted of her raising her glass with a "To those we've lost" and leaving the dais as quickly as they'd pulled her onto it. Kingsley never minded her short toasts, she knew that he thought this whole pomp and circus act was ridiculous and an absolute waste of time. But as Minister, he had certain expectations to uphold.

It was something like a Muggle Red-Carpet. They showed off their dresses, reporters got to ask questions and tried to unearth drama in the lives of those who had fought in the Battle. Harriet couldn't have begun to count the number of times she'd been asked about her love life--a question she had no answer for.

The papers reported on the event for weeks. The public was pleasantly distracted. Spirits were up-lifted in the name of hero's getting together and wearing fancy clothes.

And Harriet was always very short-tempered.

She lifted her second glass of champagne to her lips and finished the last bit. As a server passed by her with a tray she grabbed two and slipped out a side exit before her photographs and the pinched smile she wore like armor got her in any trouble with her publicists (which the Ministry had forced upon her if she wanted to work for the Auror department). She'd asked the Patil twins two years ago if either of them would be interested, as she knew they were trying to make make a name for their company in the "celebrity" Wizarding World--and running damage control on a loose canon like Harriet Potter was a feat that many respected them for.

It was Parvati who has picked out her gown. Long, form fitting, white. Padma had bejeweled her in Emeralds (a necklace and stud earrings). Both had insisted her hair be pulled back in a sort of half-up half-down look, loose curls fell a little short of halfway down her back. Everyone gushed over how stunning she looked, red rouge on her lips, her eyes highlighted with a touch of mascara and a gentle sweep of blush across her cheeks. She felt like a circus freak on parade, dolled up like this. Harriet had never been much for playing dress-up. And, as always, it made her uncomfortable to have eyes on her. That much hadn't changed.

All she could think about was how she still desperately missed Remus and the way Tonks seemed to make him smile brighter than she'd ever seen before. How George seemed to be overcompensating for the loss of his other half, but the light in his eyes seemed entirely extinguished. 

Her feet knew where she was heading before her head did. She returned to the same spot every year.

This year, instead of just standing there and staring at the spot where she'd dumped Riddle's body, she kicked off her heels and sat back against the stone wall instead. Impulsively, she impatiently pulled the bobby-pins that kept her hair in place and shook that much-too-tight-hairspray feeling out of her scalp with a long-deserved sigh of relief. Next year she would make sure she was on a long-term assignment out of the country.

That was, if she even made it as an auror for another year.

Again, she was struck by the very words Malfoy had spoken to her in this very spot.

Don't waste it.

All her life she'd thought she was supposed to be an auror. That she was meant for it. And, well, she supposed at one time she had been. At one point, her entire life revolved around eradicating the darkness from the world. Being a "hero" or "the Chosen One". She had never pictured a life in which she had other options. She'd never been able to picture a life in which Voldemort didn't exist. A world where she was free.

Of course, Harriet had told herself that she was doubting herself. She'd floored the auror examinations, passed each one with flying colors (no doubt thanks to the extensive training she'd put herself through sixth year with the senior members of the Order, including Snape). She'd learnt magic and skills that she never would have learned at Hogwarts. She'd been able to show off her wandless magic, even.

She was perfect for the job, after all, she'd been conditioned to be as such for the first 17 years of her life.

Her heart wasn't in it anymore. She was tired of trying to track down the last of the Death Eaters that hadn't answered for their crimes. Tired of following-up on reports of Death Eater copy-cats. Tired of confiscating Dark Magic items. Harriet had done her part for the world in this respect and, frankly, she just didn't want to do it anymore. When she had mentioned it to Ron and Hermione they'd smiled at her softly and wondered if maybe all she needed was a break. Hermione went so far as to say she was working herself too-hard again, and maybe she should try and set up an appointment with the Mind-Healer that had helped her and Ron after the war.

Harriet scoffed at the idea even now and sipped idly from her glass. She'd tried therapy once before, well, a muggle therapist--but that had been different. She didn't need a mind-healer...maybe all she needed was a new mind. The thought caused her to snort mid-sip, gracefully choking and spluttering all over herself in the process which only made her laugh even harder. If only the Patil's could see her now.

With a snap of her fingers, the champagne was vanished from her gown and the rest of her glass disappeared much smoother through her lips this time around.

She realized then that the reason she found herself thinking constantly about what Malfoy had said to her was because she'd done just what he'd told her not to. 

Don't waste it.

And she was wasting it. God, she was wasting it.

Fucking Malfoy.

She looked up at the sound of footsteps approaching from just around the corner and her jaw dropped at the sight of him.

Draco fucking Malfoy. In the flesh.

"What are you doing here?" Harriet snapped before she could help herself, not intending her words to come out as rudely as they did.

"Pardon?"

"I didn't mean--I just meant here. Here here, like--" she gestured to the space around them and opened her mouth to speak again but found that she didn't have a follow-up.

Malfoy stared at her like she had three heads, "I would imagine for the same reason you are, Potter."

Harry blushed at this and pushed herself to her feet, the sudden change in altitude (or perhaps the three glasses of champagne she'd drank so quickly) had her stumbling, and Malfoy's arms were there to brace her instantly. His judgmental gaze flickered to the empty glass on the floor and the full one beside it, "Are you drunk, Potter?" His words sounded like a sneer, but the look on his face was almost amused.

She met his silver eyes and rolled her own, "I'm not drunk just--clumsy," she admired, not having the tolerance to fight him at the moment. She was hardly tipsy, the Patil's (not to mention Hermione and Ron) would have her head if she was already drunk. They weren't big fans of Drunk Harriet as of late--least of all at an emotional charade like this.

"Charming."

Harry sighed and pulled away from him, only then getting the chance to properly take in the sight of him. He was dressed smartly in a navy blue suit, as dress robes had been deemed old-fashioned for an event like this. His hair was as slicked back as ever, his shoes perfectly polished, his ego coiffed. The only thing she hadn't been expecting was the very slight shadow of stubble he'd grown since she'd seen him across the Great Hall a year ago, and he often hid behind his hand when the papers tried to photograph him.

"Like what you see?" He droned, his eyebrow raised pointedly.

She didn't comment on the fact that he'd been staring at her, too.

"Why did you come here?"

"I think I answered that question already--"

"I don't mean now. I mean back then. That night. Why did you go looking for me?" Harriet blurted quickly, before she lost her nerve. She'd always wondered, but seeing as their interactions were, well, almost never, she hadn't gotten the chance.

The last time she remembered speaking to Draco was after the trials where she'd spoken on behalf of him and his mother. She had been unable to bring herself to speak for the Malfoy Patriarch, as his crimes went beyond that of his kin. But her testimony had lessened his sentence from 15 years, to ten with the potential for parole after five, and Draco's reduced from five years in Azkaban, to three years of probation. If she remembered correctly, Malfoy had told her to "stop meddling" and to "stop being a hero" because he didn't want her help anymore. She wondered if he felt the same now that he was finally off the hook.

In truth, she had done it for Narcissa Malfoy, who had truly saved her life. Who was not responsible for the choices of her husband or her son. Who would have been devastated if she had lost what was left of her family based on choices it seemed she had been forced to make. Not for nothing, Malfoy had had a change of heart at the battle when he'd thrown her her wand after she'd dropped it due to a nasty curse from Mulciber. Her hand tensed reflexively. Sometimes, the pain still flared.

"My mother told me to."

His answer was so honest and ridiculous that she let out a laugh, "You're serious?"

"She suggested I thank you before I never got the chance. I realized she was right--I thought my future would consist of Azkaban. I never thought..." he stopped speaking and shook his head, "Once I saw Vo--his body, I realized I had a few things to say to him, too."

Harriet realized before Malfoy did that he'd just divulged something very personal. Something he hadn't been meaning to share...certainly not something he ever wanted her to know about, "I--I understand. I did the same thing," she didn't know why, but she felt she owed him a courtesy. Something so that he would know she wasn't making fun of him, nor judging him, "I kicked him," Harry blurted, something she'd never told anyone she'd done, not even Ron or Hermione when they'd asked what had taken her so long. She'd told them what she'd said, screamed at him, rather. But she'd been ashamed of the kick.

She wasn't sure what possessed her to share it with Malfoy.

"I kicked him twice."

Emerald met silver instantaneously and, before either of them could stop themselves, laughter bubbled from their lips. And kept bubbling from their lips, so much so that Harriet doubled over with an arm wrapped around her waist, her free hand outstretched to balance herself against Malfoy's sturdy form.

"Oh my god--I can't believe--" she tried to catch her breath and straighten up, the arm around her waist was instead used to wipe the tears in her eyes, "--I felt so horrible about it all this time. I've never told anyone...can you believe that?" She sighed and straightened up fully, only then realizing that she still had her hand on Malfoy's arm and was gripping it gently. She was no longer grabbing it for stabilization, but for...comfort.

"You are ridiculous, Potter, you know that? I only felt guilty I didn't kick him a few more times."

Harry laughed gently again and dropped her hand from his arm a beat later.

"Thank you for--finding me back then."

Malfoy looked like he was going to say something scathing, but he merely shrugged, "Don't mention it."

Harry nodded, smoothed her hands over her dress and and straightened her posture, "I should be getting back. Leave you to it."

Draco didn't say anything but stepped aside with a wave of his arm, signaling her safe passage with a dramatic flourish. She'd taken three steps before he called out to her again, but what he said shocked her so sharply she didn't turn back around, merely froze, "Do you think we could ever be friends?"

She was momentarily brought back to the moment she'd rejected Malfoy's handshake all those years ago. Rejected his friendship and embarassed him as he'd embarassed Ron. A sudden wave of guilt crashed over her--what if she had been his friend back then? What if she hadn't rejected him? Would things have turned out different for Malfoy? Could she have saved him from what had happened?

She turned back to face him then, a look of pain so etched into her face that Malfoy looked shocked, almost just as equally hurt as she felt, "It's been a long time. I don't see why not," she paused, "Doesn't mean I'll stop calling you Malfoy, though," her words made him smirk and she returned a smile of her own.

"You're on, Potter."

Harry finally left, then, only to run into a flustered looking Ron and Hermione, who looked immensely relieved on spotting her.

"What have I told you about running off without saying anything to one of us?" Hermione snapped, a rare lapse in control. She looked upset, and Harry realized it was because of what had happened the last time she'd disappeared without telling them.

Harry swallowed thickly and shook the thought.

"That was two years ago, Hermione--"

"And a year before that you gave yourself up to Voldemort! If we're looking at patterns here, it's about time for you to do something horrible to yourself again and I won't just sit back and--"

"Hey, 'mione. She's fine, right, she's here. Nothing happened. Give her a break, it's a tough day--" he held up a hand as she opened her mouth to cut him off, "--for all of us, it's a tough day," he looked pointedly at Harriet who nodded in agreement and quelled the urge to argue with Hermione.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, I just had to...see it again. I didn't mean to worry you."

Hermione's features visibly softened and she threw her arms around Harriet's neck, "Oh, no, I'm sorry--I shouldn't have overreacted, I just--"

Harry shook her head and laughed gently over Hermione's shoulder as Ron mimed that she was cut off, "Ron was right. It's a tough day. Merlin, when did he get so wise?" Ron pretended to be offended as he offered his arms to both of them before leading them back into the Great Hall.

Malfoy had waited for them to disappear before he reemerged from the dungeons, the ghost of a frown on his face. Now, there was something eating away at him. It was all he would be able to think about.

What horrible thing had Potter done to herself two years ago?


	2. Malfoy in Muggle London

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a bit of a stockpile of material, so I'll get a few chapters out fairly quickly. I'd love any and all feedback, of course.  
> Hope you're all safe & well.
> 
> Usual disclaimers apply. 
> 
> Cheers and happy reading!

It had been a few weeks before she heard from Malfoy again. Not that she was expecting to hear from him. Or that she even wanted to hear from him--he was still a prat. Still the bully she'd grown up with.

And, yet...here she was.

The rest of the event had proceeded much like the rest of them. Shaking hands and smiling tight-lipped, resisting the urge to spit "no comment" at every reporter looking for a sound bite as she was told she really should be more mindful of her _image._ She didn't care about her image, but she didn't very well like hearing bits of gossip about her after particularly spiteful encounters, nor did she like the Minister pulling her in for tea, when they both really knew he was kindly trying to tell her that she was a Ministry employee now and had to act like one.

She wondered what her truce with Malfoy would look like if it made headlines--not that it would. Not that she wanted it to. Not that she was even thinking that their encounter had actually meant anything to him, for it certainly didn't mean anything to her and wasn't at all on her mind.

After they'd essentially agreed that they might be able to be friends, Harriet couldn't stop thinking about him. Rather, about the moment they had shared. And then, her thoughts spiraled to all the others. Even back in first year--the Forbidden Forest. Second year, in the Slytherin Common room. Third year, when she'd set her patronous on him. Fourth year--the 'Potter Stinks' buttons and their confrontation. Fifth year--well, which part? Sixth year, on the train, in the bathroom, in the tower. And what would have been Seventh year...fucksake, there was far too much for her to go over, and yet, after a week of analyzing, Harriet found she'd gone through all of it. Multiple times. Their history was extensive and every bit of it went against the notion that they could be friends--yet...he had helped her.

And...well, yeah, there was still a lot to be sorted through. 

If they couldn't make it to being quite friends, could they be friendly? Or, at least, something that involved less hatred. 

After all, they had so much more in common than they were willing to admit.

She sighed and tried to focus on the article she'd been reading when a large, pitch black owl had swept in through her open window and landed on top of the Prophet she was reading. It wasn't until she realized she'd reread the same line without actually reading it that she accepted the interruption for what it was: a blessing. Gratefully, if aggressively done, the needy bird pecked her finger while she untied and opened the bit of parchment attached to its ankle.

Harriet unfurled it quickly, flicked her eyes to the unfinished bacon and toast on her plate, should the bird be hungry, and skimmed the contents. Once she hit the name at the bottom she read and re-read the letter until she had it memorized.

Brief and to the point. Very Malfoy-ish.

His hand-writing was exactly as she pictured it. Small, tidy script that ran like water, rippling over the parchment the same way water ripples over tiny pebbles at the edge of a stream. 

  
Potter, 

_Well, you said we could be friends. Maybe._

_If you mean to keep your word, meet me tonight at six._

_There's a pub in London, 67 Fleet Road in Hampstead._

_If you are late I'll assume you aren't coming._

Malfoy

  
Harry had genuinely laughed at what he'd written. It was like he was half-trying to tell her she was full of shit and probably wouldn't keep her word, while also half-trying to tell her that he would appreciate it if she did. Feeling giddy for the first time in...a very long time, Harry scrawled a reply on the back of Malfoy's letter.

  
Malfoy,

_You do know what they say about assuming, don't you?_

Potter

  
After the bird was gone, Harriet folded up the Prophet, ignoring the way her own face stared back at her with a forced smile, and threw it in the rubbish bin beside her desk. She didn't care what they had to say about her, never had. From then on she decided she wouldn't be reading the Prophet anymore. It was a waste of her time.

Harry busied herself with straightening up around her flat (which took all of ten minutes as she always kept it clean). It was moments like this that she missed Grimmauld Place--there had always been something to be cleaned or fixed. Well, until there hadn't been anymore and Andromeda had encouraged her to sell the wretched home. Harriet had insisted against it, she didn't need the money and Kreacher would have been happy to look after it.

But, at the end of the day she had sold it, if only to rid herself of the constant reminder that Sirius was gone and the house was empty. She was surprised at how liberating it had been to sign the house over. To buy her flat, positioned beautifully in muggle London, just far enough away from the tourist crowd, but not too far to lose out on the intricacies of old English architecture.

It had made her remarkably happy to furnish the place, to decorate it how she pleased. She'd never truly had a place of her own before. Even at Hogwarts the girls dormitory hadn't really offered a chance for personal touches. She'd finally gotten every last detail right, down to the candle she had on the shelf in her bathroom. It had taken the entire year she'd lived there to finish up. 

She looked at the stove clock and sighed, "Bugger."

It wasn't even half eleven.

All she could think about was seeing Malfoy again. If only because she was curious. Curious about what he'd been up to. Curious about what he wanted from a friendship with her. Curious as to how easy it had been for her to trust him at the Gala with something she'd considered a nasty secret. Especially considering their extensive history--none of which had ever really been pleasant.

Harriet opened her laptop and pressed the power button. She was curious--Malfoy had chosen a pub in muggle London? She hadn't even thought he knew anything about London, outside the magical bits. Before she could put more thought into this, her flat rang with the chime of her telephone and she stood to answer it.

"'ello?"

"Hey Harry--have you got plans for tonight? I was hoping we could go get dinner--You, me, Ginny, Luna, Padma, Parvati?"

"Forgetting someone?"

Harry could hear Hermione rolling her eyes through the phone, "Yes, Lavender too--but really, she's been getting on my nerves, did you hear what she said about House Elves the last time we met?"

Harriet laughed and it was her turn to roll her eyes. She was sure this was more about the fact that Lavender and Ron had dated once upon a time (not that she was about to bring that up), "As much as I'd love to, Hermione, I've got plans tonight--"

"Hot date?"

"W-what? No! No, it's not a date, I'm just--"

"Oh, my gosh! Harriet Jamie Potter! You're going on a date--with who? Someone I know?"

"I told you, it's not a date, Hermione!"

"Harriet Potter, you're lying through your teeth, I can hear it in your voice! Don't tell me, then--but I will want details tomorrow!" 

Before Harriet could protest any further, the line went dead.

She chanced another glance at the clock.

It was 11:34am.

At around 5:15pm she began to get ready. She'd decided to apparate under her cloak, as she hadn't been able to look up the address because her internet was being shoddy. Ruddy thing--she'd told Mr. Weasley she had no use for a computer, least of all one that hardly worked on a good day, and whined whirred loudly all throughout.

First, she flicked her wand and tried to get her hair to fall in loose curls--but that made it look like she was trying too hard, and Merlin knew she wasn't going to try hard for a non-date with Draco Malfoy. She decided, long and straight was as good as anything. She compromised by putting in her contacts, instead of wearing her glasses, applying a little bit of mascara and some lip gloss.

All of this took at most 5 minutes--it was the outfit that was going to take longer. She didn't know what sort of place Malfoy was talking about, but he had said a pub, not a restaurant or anything too fancy. She settled on a pair of dark, skinny jeans, a pair of beige, knee high boots with a slight heel, and a white blouse. She put on a pair of pearl earrings, and didn't change the gold locket with a picture of her parents inside. Once she was satisfied, she grabbed her cloak and her pocket book, the one with the undetectable extension charm. Right before she decided to leave her flat, she pinched cheeks for color, pulled the cloak over herself and turned on her heel where she reappeared right in front of the pub and quickly made her way to the alley beside it to remove her cloak. 

After stuffing it into her bag, Harriet pinched her cheeks for a bit of color and used the back of her hand to wipe the lip gloss off her mouth before she made her way to the street and looked up at the sign above the awning.

THE STAG was written in bold capital letters across the front, the building black, with brick inlaid sides.

"You've got to be joking," she muttered to herself, her hand instinctively reaching to clasp the locket around her neck. The Stag--was this for real? Of all pubs in London that Malfoy could have picked...this was the one? She'd never been much for Divination--but this should have been a good sign. Or, it could have been a sign that this was an utterly terrible idea. Harriet shook her head and stepped inside. With a brief pause by the door, she surveyed the mild crowd and moved immediately to the platinum blonde head of hair at a table for two. 

"Malfoy," she said in greeting, though she couldn't keep the smile off her face. He stood to greet her and gestured to the seat across from where he was sitting.

Her hesitation wasn't lost on him, "What is it?"

Harriet gnawed at her bottom lip and took a deep breath, "It's stupid but...could we switch seats?" She felt ashamed for even saying it aloud, but if she didn't, this encounter wouldn't be any fun at all, for either of them. She expected Malfoy to mock her, but the other just stood and held his chair out for her to sit before he took place in the other, "Sorry."

"Don't be. I was like that too, for a while."

"Like that?"

"Couldn't have my back to anything. Needed to see it all."

"Does it bother you now, then?"

"You're Harriet Potter, I trust your eyes to find danger more than my own--even if it's imagined."  
  
She laughed and ran a hand through her hair before looping her bag on the back of her chair. Draco Malfoy--trust her? That was a new one. Could they really have changed this much in three years? Well--actually, yes. That was a stupid question. Before she could stop herself, she said, "Not the sort of place I expected."

"Not like I can frequent Knockturn Alley pubs--"

"That's not what I meant. This is...quaint but chic. Very muggle. Rustic," Harriet raised her hand to the barmaid as she surveyed the scene, "I'm going for a shot and a pint--you in?" Malfoy nodded and she order for both of them, pleased to see that Malfoy had no qualms about her choice of drink. There was nothing normal about this. Harriet had to remind herself that she hadn't been normal a day in her life.

"Embracing the muggle world was something I wasn't ever able to do before. I took my newfound freedom these past three years to appreciate it," he pursed his lips, "Not to mention living on probation is easier if you go it the Muggle way," she didn't have a chance to ask him what he meant by that, nor how he was, how he found the muggle-way to be--nor any of the other things that suddenly threatened to burst from her lips.

The barmaid returned with their drinks and Harriet smiled kindly and offered her thanks, "Listen," she started, "I'm nervous about this--"

Malfoy cut her off by raising his shot glass, cheers-ing her own, and throwing it back. She followed suit easily.

"So. What do they say about assume?"

"What?" Her brows knit together and all the things she'd wanted to ask him about left her head.

"Your response to my invitation. You said--"

"Oh, that--er. A muggle saying."

"And?" Malfoy leaned forward, his silver eyes boring into her own.

"Well. They say to assume is to make an ass out of you and me. Ass-u-me," Harriet told him with an embarrassed laugh, as her response had been much cheekier when she'd sent it, and rather droll when she had to explain it.

"Lucky for us, you were on time," Malfoy said finally, sipping regally from his glass.

They sat in silence for a bit. Not uncomfortably so. It seemed they were just...staring at one another, taking the other in.

"Why am I here, Malfoy?"

The blond stiffened momentarily before raising his hand for another round of shots, "Honestly, Potter...I don't know. I just felt like I wanted to spend time with you. After everything. Not to mention, both of us share a pastime."

"What, quidditch?"

"Kicking dead bodies."

The bluntness of his statement, the plain look on his face, the way he didn't seem like he was offended by what he'd said at all had Harriet nearly crying tears of laughter and reaching out to smack his shoulder with the back of her hand, "You twit!"

He was smiling then too, and, as their shots delivered, they drank them together without breaking eye contact.

"You know something I never really understood--"

"No, I don't know, if you didn't understand it how could I have?"

"Oh, piss off," Harriet muttered with a roll of her eyes, though her lips were turned upwards, "Why did we hate each other so much?" It was a stupid question, but warranted.

"Don't we still?" Malfoy asked her curiously, and while she initially thought he was just trying to be a prat, she saw a note of sincerity in his eyes and heard it in his voice. 

"I don't hate you anymore, if that's what you want to know," she told him, her voice gentle and earnest--it struck her then that she had never, in the entirety of their lives, spoken like this to Malfoy. Spoken this much to Malfoy, even.

Malfoy looked wary, hesitant to take her word for it, but he put up his mask again as he spoke, "Even after everything--you're a strange creature, Potter."

"That's hardly something a lady wants to be called--"

"Good thing you're hardly a lady, Scarhead."

Harriet rolled her eyes and took a sip of her beer, trying hard not to snap back at him with a quip that would surely lead to an argument, which would surely lead to her storming out of the pub and Malfoy covered in the remnants of her pint. She raised an eyebrow at him over the rim of her glass and waited, intent on getting some sort of apology before she deigned to speak again.

Malfoy sighed and his ego seemed to deflate a bit, "It's not easy talking to you like this. Reflexively, I want to insult you."

She smiled crookedly and inwardly accepted what was about as close to an apology as she was like to get. Instead of holding a grudge, she picked up where their pleasant conversation had left off, "It's because of "everything" that I don't hate you, Malfoy."

He looked at her like she had three heads and it drew a laugh out of her.

"We've been through so much, the both of us. And you didn't tell her. Bellatrix. That night at your house, you knew it was me," Harriet reminded him gently, "It wasn't just me who saved your life," she was shocked to see how uncomfortable Malfoy looked then, at her mention of his good deed. She couldn't stop, "And at the battle, you threw me your wand. If you hadn't--"

"Don't. Stop rehashing it all, I get it. You feel like you owe me, is that it?"

"What? No--"

"You feel sorry for me? Like _I_ need you--"

"Malfoy, stop--"

"Newsflash, Potter, we don't all need _you_ to be our hero anymore. We don't need you anymore and _I_ don't need you offering friendship because you pity me--"

" _You're_ the one who asked _me_ to come here, Malfoy. You're the one who asked if it was possible for us to be friends. I came here because I wanted to, Merlin knows why after this shit--I'm trying this new thing, see, where I don't go around fucking _judging_ everyone because of who they used to be!" Harry lifted her glass and finished it in one go, not caring that a bit of it dribbled down her chin before she drew the back of her hand across her mouth, "So, thanks for proving me wrong, and thanks for the drink, I hope you know how muggle money works because I'm certainly not sticking around to help you figure it out."

She snapped at him and stood, with one last glare and a roll of her eyes, Harriet turned on her heel and swept out of the pub without a look behind her. It was only when she had made it across the street and there was more than enough distance between them did Harriet realize she'd left her purse on the back of her chair inside. She groaned and raised a hand to her face.

How stupid would she look now, walking back in their to get her purse?

"Stupid fucking Malfoy," she muttered under her breath and turned, trying not to tuck her tail between her legs as she went because if anything, one thing she had always held onto was her pride--and stubbornness. She clung to that pride even as she ran straight into someone and dropped to the sidewalk sharply.

"Walk much?" Malfoy snarled, but held out his hand all the same to help her up. She spotted her purse in his other hand and, unlike the first time they met, she took his hand instead of shoving it away.

She allowed him to help her to her feet and scowled when he held her pocketbook out for her to take, only to draw it away from her when she reached for it, "Come back inside."

"I don't really think I want to, Malfoy. As lovely as this evening has been--"

"I'm sorry, alright? Shite--that was hardly the worst thing I've ever said to you."

"If you want to be my friend you're going to have to work on not being such a jerk."

Malfoy opened his mouth to say something, but whatever it was got lost in the sudden chaos that broke out around them. Two cars collided and the ensuing 'bang' accompanied by the sound of breaking glass, shouting, and someone crying had Harriet's heart pounding out of her chest, her wand was drawn and she'd yanked Malfoy down to the ground, trying to get low and avoid what was sure to be a duel, right there in the middle of Muggle London.

It took her a few moments before she realized that they were safe. Everything was fine--

Malfoy was looking at her, but not like she had three heads. If she had to describe it, the look on his face was almost...empathetic? Like he understood and felt bad, and not in a way that made her feel pitied, but in a way that made her feel like she didn't have to explain or be embarrassed. Her chest was heaving, heart pounding, her skin was almost vibrating from the unreleased magic that threatened to unleash it's defensive fury on a simple car crash. A firm hand on her arm tore her eyes from the wreck. It wasn't until she made eye contact with Malfoy that she noticed his lips moving, that he was telling her to breathe.

 _Breathe, it's nothing,_ she told herself.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, her eyes flicking back to the cars and now shouting muggles as she slid her wand back up her sleeve and stood properly again. "That was--yeah," she was waiting for him to laugh, waiting for him to call her a nutter and change his mind entirely about continuing the evening or ever seeing her again.

Malfoy pursed his lips and looked away from her, his eyes focused on the crash and the flashing lights as help arrived on scene, "I have it, too. Post-Traumatic Stress disorder. One of the Mind-healers who had to evaluate me before my trial diagnosed me."

"I don't have that."

Malfoy snorted, "Potter, be serious."

"I was never diagnosed."

"Therefore, you can live in a comfortable state of deniability," the accompanying eye roll was enough to set her temper off again. 

There was no way this was going to work.

"You don't know anything--" she started, her voice raising and her cheeks flaring with color.

"No, nothing at all," his sarcasm was all it took to send her over the edge. Harry shoved Malfoy hard, causing him to hit the brick wall of the building behind them. He was raising his eyebrows at her and holding up his hands as if claiming his innocence. The smirk on his face suggested otherwise. 

"You're such a--a stupid git! I'm leaving!" And when she didn't walk away Malfoy raised his eyebrows at her expectantly. Oh, of course, of course she was the one who had to walk away. She wondered if he was trying to make her feel like she was tucking her tail and running.

When she was hidden enough to apparate back to her flat, Harriet realized it had really pissed her off that Malfoy hadn't tried to stop her that time.

Once she was back in her flat, Harriet realized something else that was strange.

She was smiling.


	3. Once a Poncy Git, Now a PI?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always loved!
> 
> Usual disclaimers apply. Happy reading!

As always, the weekend went by far too quickly. Come Monday, Harriet was sitting at her desk, slouched so far down in her chair that she was nearly invisible to the naked eye behind her paperwork (which she always let build up like this). She wondered how long she could get away with this disappearing act before someone came looking for her and tried to get her to stand in the Atrium and answer questions for reporters--a ploy to pull positive public attention and lessen the spotlight on the fact that Antonin Dolohov and Fenrir Greyback were still as evasive as ever and had even begun attacking small muggle villages across Great Britain.

"Harry? Might I ask what it is you're accomplishing like that?"

Harry started and nearly slipped out of her chair entirely upon hearing the Minister's voice above her.

"Shite, fuck--Minister, argh-!" As she pushed her chair out from her desk and tried to get her footing, Harriet really did fall out of it this time and Kinglsey laughed and stopped her chair from taking him out, "Sorry Kingsley," Harriet grumbled and pushed herself to her feet, wondering why she was spending so much time on the ground lately.

The Minister was still chuckling slightly as he spoke, "We received an anonymous tip that Dolohov, Greyback, and possibly Mulciber--"

"An anonymous tip?" There had been a few more of those than usual in the past few months.

"--are in a village outside Surrey. Find Weasley, Coote, and Chambers. You're going to investigate. If you see anything, call it in and we'll send backup," Kingsley handed her a piece of paper without missing a beat, on it were written coordinates, "I told Robards to take the day off--he was a bit high strung when he came in yesterday."

Harriet nodded gratefully, Gawain Robards had taken over the Auror department. He was one of the few aurors who had been able to stay with the department after she and Ron had joined and made a movement to weed out corruption by yanking at the roots. Robards was great at his job--but he was a bit of a blunt arse, if Harry was being honest. As blunt as he could be, however, he and Harry had a decent relationship. He respected what she'd done and had been impressed by her skillset. Her ability to adapt, to learn, and fight for what was right.

They arrived in the village an hour after Kinglsey had instructed her to get their team together. After a quick planning session and going over their objectives (investigate casually, make sure no one gets hurt) Harriet was feeling hopeful. Or rather, she was trying to tell herself that she felt hopeful. 

A thought struck her as they paired off, Harriet and Ron, Coote and Chambers.

_What if this was a trap?_

An anonymous tip--they got those all the time, but what was it about this one that Kingsley was so certain warranted an investigation? She supposed, based on the nature of the case, it was imperative that they followed-up on any and every possible lead in case one of them just happened to unearth something they could use.

"Why are you so on edge, mate?" Ron asked as they paused and inauspiciously glanced around, Harriet paid careful but brief notice to a homeless man in the alleyway. Something told her, despite being on the run, Mulciber and Dolohov were probably living with more luxury--Greyback, however, she could easily picture around these parts

"This doesn't feel right to me," she admitted, biting her lip and scanning the faces that walked past them. It was a small town, very easy for them to draw attention to themselves, "C'mon, let's pop into the pub for a pint. If anyone's seen them, it'll have been the barman. Or the town drunk," she suggested and led the way.

Once inside, Harriet chose a spot close to the door with her back to the wall.

"What's wit' all t'new faces this week, Lem?"

"Dunno, Ross."

Harriet raised an eyebrow at Ron and mouthed 'bingo', "Not used to outsiders around here?" Harriet took the opportunity to chime in, flashing a radiant smile and blinking her eyes innocently. Ron snorted--the whole "attractive and flirty young woman" bit actually did work out well for her more often than not, but it was admittedly an uncomfortable charade. 

"Not ones like yerself," Ross admitted with a toothy grin and raised his beer bottle in her direction.

"Oh, ones like who, then?" Harry smiled, her eyes twinkling, her lips raised in a tiny smirk.

Ross snorted and Lem shook his head, "Rough looking fellows been 'round a bit, funny coats. Tried to pay for a meal with weird coins. Didn't say anything though, as they were gold and worth more than the fish and chips I made 'em."

Ron and Harry exchanged a look. 

That had been surprisingly easy.

"And er--these rough looking men give you any trouble?"

"Sugar, does it look like anyone could give Lem trouble with me around?"

Harriet laughed, playing along and pulled her mobile from her pocket, "Oh, shoot--Ralph, we've got to go, Anna's gone into labor."

She and Ron high-tailed it out of there with a brief apology and a promise to come back soon. Once they were out of sight of muggles, she tapped the tip of her wand against the coin in her pocket so it would warm and signal to the others that they needed to meet back up. Ron set about explaining what had happened to the other, while Harriet fiddled anxiously with her wand, sliding it in and out of her sleeve, very much at the ready.

"Summon Kingsley then, comb the village with a larger crew...might be we get the rest of the week off!" Ritchie chirped and Harriet shook her head, earning a groan from Darren.

"Hate to burst your bubble, Coote, but I don't think we're about to be finishing this up anytime soon," Harriet sighed, "This doesn't feel off to you lot? Searching for them for years and an annonymous tip leads us here and the first place Ron and I walk into confirms it? It's too clean. Too neat."

"Let's split up," Ron said suddenly, and Harriet turned to him in shock. He was the best strategist in the department, but splitting up didn't sound at all like a good idea to her. He held up a hand to signal that he wasn't finished, "We stay in sight of one another and move in formation. We'll watch one another's backs from afar, but splitting up might coax them out. Essentially, Harriet, if they see you their first instinct is going to be to attack. Especially if they think they've caught you alone. The moment one of us see's them, we'll call for backup. And if they aren't here, having split will allow us to cover more ground in less time."

"Damn, Robards," Harriet teased but nodded in agreement as Darren and Ritchie mulled it over (as if they had a say), "Let's get to it then, I'll leave the alley first, draw their attention away from you lot."

"If they're here," Ritchie added, to which Harriet nodded.

They were nearing the outskirts of town, Harriet was seemingly entirely alone, but her wand was in her hand and she new, though she couldn't see them, the others were close enough to come to her aid if needed. They'd walked nearly every cobble-stone street in the village, casting detection charms and searching for magical signatures. She'd even resorted to using the "point me!" spell, despite Robards telling them it was next to useless and not efficient enough to trust, but well, it told her to keep moving straight, in the direction of an abandoned manor she could only see if she lifted her hand to shield the glare of the sun from her eyes.

She flicked her wand-- _Homenum Revelio--_ and was nearly floored to detect four figures lingering in the thick wood to her left and a fifth to her right. She raised a hand and ran it through her hair, a signal to alert the others that they weren't alone anymore. With a bang, Harriet flicked her wand, someone among the trees yelped, undoubtedly taken off guard. 

She took off at a run, then, unable to wait for the others to catch up should a brief hesitation allow them to get away. Breathing heavily, she flicked her wand at the stunned figure in black robes, binding his arms and legs tightly to his side, so as not to allow him movement, even if he came to anytime soon. Harry continued on, flicking her wand and sending flashes or red and blue light with the intent to stun or incapacitate. She caught another and left him to Ritchie, who had quickly caught up to her. She couldn't stop though--they hadn't gotten them all, if her memory was correct the other two should be right around her--

"Harriet!" Ron shouted after her in warning, "On your left!"

She turned--

A flash of black and a flurry of robes came out of nowhere, slamming hard into her, knocking the air out of her lungs. She stumbled, but gathered herself quickly and shot a stunner in the direction her assailant had gone.

Without warning, pain cut through her spine and radiated like fire throughout the entirety of her torso. Gritting her teeth as Ron caught up with her and was able to reign in the man who'd slammed into her and caught her off guard. It wasn't who they were here for, but it was clear they were working together.

Harriet had lifted her wand in an attempt to cast another spell, to track the fourth but the simple movement alone brought her too her knees and a scream tore from her lips before she could stop it.

_What spell is this?_

Chambers and Coote had managed to round up the fourth, but Harriet could barely see what was going on for the pain was all consuming and seemed to be getting worse.

"R-Ron--something's wrong--"

Before she fainted, a flash of silver caught her eye and all she could wonder was why the fuck Draco Malfoy was here, trying to help her in a muggle village while they were trying to track down three very evasive, very sadistic Death Eaters.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Malfoy?" Ron snarled, his wand drawn and shoved sharply against his neck, though he was trying to work quickly before the curse worsened and severely hurt her.

"We don't have time for a pissing contest, Weasley. Ask the Minister when we get back to London--" Draco snapped, flicking his wand and muttering a few counter-curses under his breath, "This is all I can do here, we've got to get her--"

"You're not going anywhere with her, convenient that you just happened to be here--"

"You faithless swine--I'm a Private Investigator, I'm the one who bloody well found them here and told Kingsley, Merlin, you're a pigheaded prat--" That seemed to shut Ron up, but the red head still wouldn't allow Malfoy to pick Harriet up and instead took it upon himself to determine they were going back to the Ministry. Begrudgingly, Malfoy followed and watched as the thoughtless, foolhardy Gryffidiots blundered about trying to determine what to do next.

There was chaos as everyone scrambled upon their arrival in the auror office, chaos enough to make Malfoy pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation, "The Minister and a private room would be a good place to start," he snarled, ignoring Weasley's sudden, surprised insults as the redhead hadn't seemed to realize he would be able to follow them back. Malfoy resisted the urge to tell Weasel he had been granted the clearance of an auror, thanks to the Minister's realization that his knowledge and ability was far more beneficial to them if it were easily accessible and kept under wraps by effective communication. After hours, he was able to apparate into the auror department's general lobby and make his way to Robards office, or Shacklebolt's to provide updates.

"Mr. Malfoy, please report," Kingsley instructed upon entering the room, ignoring Weasley's open mouth and clear indignation. Kingsley's eyes flicked over Harriet who lay impossibly still on the makeshift cot Malfoy had transfigured for her while they'd waited. He cast a cooling charm before delivering. They were the only thing that could dull the pain so early on in the curse.

"They were there, but so were their lackeys--wannabe Death Eater's. It seems they aren't picky with who they can get on their side. Mulciber, no doubt, was the mastermind behind this hex--the Dark Lord used it to torture information out of people. It's a severe burn, which I've healed...but the after effects of it will be debilitating for a time. Potter managed to strike three down before Mulciber attacked from afar...I would've gone for him but I was the only one who knew the curse. The only one that could help."

Kingsley nodded, "Of course. It's no matter. We've got eyes on them again, a near miss--but near enough to make them nervous. Or, to encourage them to come out of hiding again. They want to remain relevant, after all. I expect attacking Miss Potter was too tempting to resist."

"Will someone please tell me what the bloody fuck is going on?" Ron wondered incredulously, taking the pause in conversation as an invitation to interject. He'd watched the casual exchange between Malfoy and the Minister long enough, and still wasn't sure why everyone was looking at him like he had three heads.

Kinglsey sighed and turned to him, "Draco is a Ministry asset. I've privately contracted his services. As a private investigator, he possesses a multitude of skills, one of them being tracking. Since he's joined us, the number of close calls in which we've almost captured Mulciber and Dolohov have nearly tripled. Our 'anonymous tip' of course, came from him."

"I'm sure even you can imagine why my name can't publicly be tied to this investigation, Weasley," Malfoy sneered.

Ron said nothing in regards to that, "Might be you could have told us--Harriet thought the whole bloody thing was a trap, if she knew it essentially was, she might've been able to dodge this mess!" He gestured to her unconscious frame, "Bloody reckless--running headlong like that into the thick of everything, Kingsley, this is the third time in a month--"

Draco watched Ron's face closely and was surprised to watch a mix of fear and worry cross his features. Momentarily, Draco was brought back to the moment he lingered around, just out of sight in the Entrance Hall while Granger had all but freaked out on Potter for "disappearing". His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the girls slight frame, remembered the way she had so effortlessly brought him down for protection only a few days ago when she thought there had been danger present--and how she couldn't have her back to anything...anyone.

 _What horrible things had she been through_ after _the war?_ He was curious, though he hardly put it past Potter to get herself into more trouble _after_ the Dark Lord had fallen.

"I need to reverse the curse, it will take some time, but if I manage to get it done, she will suffer far less before St. Mungo's takes over," Draco made sure to lock eyes with Weasley, ironically begging for the ginger to trust him. At long last, Weasley nodded and encouraged both Coote and Chambers from the room so they could finish giving their detailed accounts and ready their hostages for questioning.

* * *

Before she opened her eyes, Harriet already knew she was at St. Mungo’s—a place she hated even more than the Hospital Wing, in part due to the fact that it was far more public, far more crowded and the Healers had far less bedside manner than Madam Pomfrey. She could hear the bloody beeping and whirring of magically run machines, could hear someone whispering, just out of earshot. Merlin, if it was Hermione she already knew what was coming. Suggesting an extended vacation, a leave of absence to focus on herself.

Harry opened her eyes and tried to sit up.

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to do.

Her body screamed in agony, each movement set off a stinging pain, similar to the _Cruciatus_. A weak cry escaped her lips, alerting the whispering figure just out of sight.

“Oi, take it easy, mate—“

“T—ake it--ah, easy?!” It hurt to speak.

Ron and Hermione moved into her line of vision then, and it only took a look before Ron began to fill her in about the mysterious curse that had been used. He made sure to tell her it would wear off...eventually.

“Malfoy?” It was all she could manage, her voice gravelly with the effort it took not to cry out in pain. She glared at the pair of them when they exchanged a look.

He was there, she had seen him.

“Apparently Malfoy has been very covertly contracted by the Ministry to help locate Dolohov, Greyback, and now Mulciber, I suppose. He’s been on the case for months—“ Hermione started to explain before Ron cut in.

“Bloody git probably set us up—“

“Come off it, Ron, this is the closest you’ve been in months to grabbing them. You have to admit he knows what he’s doing. And he did compromise himself to help Harriet.”

Ron rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything else as a Healer bustled into the room, “Fortunate he did. His familiarity with the curse helped us greatly, we should be able to break it in the next day or so,” the Healer was one Harriet hadn’t seen before, but she found herself pleased at her lack of bias towards Malfoy.

And then she found herself shocked that she cared about such a thing.

The Healer helped her drink a calming draught after a brief explanation that it was the only potion able to help, coupled with cooling charms. Harriet didn’t attempt to speak again, but she did feel a relaxation in her limbs and a dullness that replaced the tension, which seemed to also dull the consistent buzz of pain. She closed her eyes briefly, inhale exhale, and opened them again.

“The curse that was used on you was a curse created for Voldemort. A torture method used in the first and second war,” Hermione informed her. If she knew how much it would hurt to scoff bitterly, Harriet might’ve tried a bit harder to restrain herself.

“Apparently, the git’s become a Private Investigator. Helping families track down loved ones in hiding—and now helping the Ministry find the remaining Death Eaters,” Ron informed her.

Hermione chimed in, “Quite ingenious, really. With his...personal experience and insight. Of course, for publicity reasons, his name can’t be formally attached to the Ministry but, well, he doesn’t seem to care about that at all.”

It was ironic, Harry thought, how after years of wanting the spotlight and attention, Malfoy had now become someone that was comfortable staying away from the public eye, especially when it came to his good deeds. She’d wondered what Malfoy had been up to—briefly of course. It wasn’t like he had to work, what with the sizable vault the Malfoy family owned in Gringotts. It reeked something like retribution, and Harriet felt an unwarranted surge of anger and annoyance. Here Malfoy was, trying to redeem himself for no one but himself—and yet, their meeting the other night had left her certain that he was still the same poncy git he’d been to her in school. It was horribly annoying that she cared so much. Especially since she’d promised herself that she was going to write him off entirely. How could she do that now, what with him helping them track down the same monsters they were looking for.

“You should go home—“

“Not a chance—“

“We don’t mind, Harry, really!”

“No, go. M’gonna sleep more anyway. I’ll be fine,” she insisted, trying her hardest not to let any of the pain deep into her voice. This was agonizing—she tried to imagine what it would feel like to have the Cruciatus cast on top of this, and how Riddle had ever expected anyone to be able to give up any information through this sheer, blinding pain.

Hermione and Ron bid their goodbyes about an hour later, leaving Harriet to herself.

She was grateful to be alone. It had been exhausting watching Ron and Hermione communicate wordlessly on either side of her. And all the times Hermione had opened her mouth (no doubt to tell her she needed to take a break) had put her on edge. They couldn’t very well force her to leave the field...though, if they brought their concerns to Kingsley...

The rest of her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Stupidly, she tried to sit up again, only to feel gentle hands on her shoulders, holding her in place, “Idiot, don’t move—“ Malfoy hissed at her.

Another flare of anger courses through her veins, “Why’d you kn-knock then!”

“Shut up, Potter.”

Harry would’ve spoke again, only an aftershock rumbled through her and she ceased any and all attempts at telling Malfoy off.

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t dead,” he informed her as he dropped into the chair Hermione had recently vacated, “Nasty curse, I had the pleasure of experiencing it once.”

Her eyes flashed at this, surprised—she hadn’t thought the Riddle would have used his own followers as test subjects, “Awful,” was all she could get herself to say. Malfoy snorted and gave a nod of agreement.

“I’ve been working on a few things I want to speak with Healer Entwhistle about, we should be able to break it by tomorrow and get you out of here...though, from what the Minister’s been saying, I think you’ve been put on a temporary leave.”

That did it, unable to hold herself back, Harriet forced herself to sit up right in god-honest protest, “What?”

Her stubbornness was only able to take her so far, however, as the pain caused her to cry out and close her eyes, surely in the brink of passing out, “You really can’t help being a fool, can you?” Malfoy hadn’t known when it had happened, only that he had taken one of her hands and was allowing her to squeeze it as tightly as she needed to try and distract her from the pain, “Surprised they haven’t done it sooner—the way you blindly threw yourself into those woods without waiting for your team to back you up—“

“Don’t need you to tell me how to do my job—“

“No, just to fix you up after you’ve run amok,” Malfoy pointed out, leaving Harriet no other choice but to release his stupidly soft hand.

“Fuck off.”

Malfoy sighed, “I assume you never want to speak to me again?”

“You know what they say—“

“Precisely. So, when you get out of here, we’ll go for drinks and try again.”

Malfoy left before she could answer, but she found it that she didn’t want to say no anyway. This new information, the whole PI side to Malfoy—it was intriguing and ultimately not what she expected from him. It shed new light and added another layer to someone that was surely becoming more impossible to read than ever.


End file.
